


Cardigan

by I_Am_Titanium



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Gift Fic, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:02:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27876542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Am_Titanium/pseuds/I_Am_Titanium
Summary: They are the people who know each other the most and the least.
Relationships: Triss Merigold/Keira Metz
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Cardigan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [finiarel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/finiarel/gifts).



> I started writing it when Taylor Swift's new album "Folklore" was released, which was around the end of July...
> 
> Please, please listen to "Cardigan" by Taylor Swift while reading it. It fits so perfectly.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the angst that I did not anticipated but was there anyway!

When Triss grunted and opened her eyes with utmost reluctance, her sour fingers fumbled with warm and fragrant silken sheet beside her, which instantly got her attention. While this arrangement had gone on and off for years, Triss had no memory of her last time staying over, or if it ever happened—after all she was able to count all the times they ended up in a bed while conscious with one hand, with a clear inner voice "one last time" interwoven in each one of them.

How utterly wrong she was.

Rubbing at the building headache from hangover, Triss turned over with difficulty and mindlessly tried to wiped at the wet stain on her pillow left by activities from the previous night or the dreamless slumber after that with her sleeves, before the friction reminded her of her nudity. She sighed, finally getting up, leaning against the headboard with intricate patterns massaging her aching throat. She gasped sympathetically from the familiar tingle of bruises and the site of massacre lit by the growing sunlight. Judging from the mess, apart from the overly generously supplied rye (also feign civility and groveling compliments) from the Temaria harvest banquet, one of them (most likely Keira, unwilling to destroy her own place) teleported them to Triss’ tower in Maribor before taking it on herself to open a bottle of vintage Everluse, a token of gratitude from a baron for solving a private matter. Then, one of them (most likely Triss, who had been tolerating Fercart’s bullshit for the better half of the banquet) smashed a chalice expensive enough to buy an impressive estate at the center of Vizima at the innocent dressing mirror, drunk blabber and curses vulgar enough to blush the most experienced inn keeper interspersed in between. Last but not the least… well, after raising her arms to confirm the existence of a few scabby wounds, Triss was definitely the one to be mercilessly shoved upon the broken glass scattered across the bloody sandalwood dresser.

_Fuck._

When she was finally ready to get off the bed on wobbly legs to check if there were anything remediable lest it scarred in front of what remained of the mirror, the latched door pushed open with a squeal, bringing in a stronger scent of rosemary and kumquat, and the delicious smell of breakfast.

For an instant, blue eyes of distinguishable shades stared into each other. Keira, a tray full of food in hands, raised an eyebrow, daring any words too stupid in the moment. She was wearing a gown so crudely made, no doubt newly sewed with a magical needle, that it only covered the most basic level of modesty, scratches peppered on her side, the fruit of protest about roughness from the previous night, disappearing and reappearing with every movement under the thin fabric.

"Merigold," she yawned in lieu of greeting, languid and graceful as a cat. Triss narrowed her eyes trying to look dangerous. She most likely failed.

"Don’t… call me that." Triss winced on opening her mouth. She could hardly recognize her own hoarse voice. She swallowed with effort, ignoring the burning in her throat. Her splinters of memory told her that by the end of the night the only sounds she could make were pathetic whimpers.

"Whatever. Do you want your free breakfast or not?"

 _It’s hardly free if the actual cost is my sanity,_ Triss silently lamented her misfortune, but her focus was unavoidably diverted from the unexpectedly substantial breakfast on the tray. Light brown Zerrikanian coffee with extra milk, a newfound imported luxury among the nobleman, perfectly cooked rye bread, scrambled eggs, and apple slices. Cooking a meal wasn’t that hard for a sorceress who could complete most of the process with magic. What _was_ hard was that she stayed the night and made breakfast in bed for the coming morning.

For someone who did not know Keira well, they may think that her sudden kindness had an ulterior motive. But Triss… well, she had known her for at least two decades (by the gods, has it been that long?!) and from what she knew about her and herself, if the blonde sorceress did have an ulterior motive, Triss was going to need a much better bribe than a grand meal.

For whatever it was worth, things were really uncommon, not to mention Triss’ slightly awkward nudity. Nothing that Keira had not seen (and touched), sure. Still, little left of Triss’ dignity prohibited her from feasting in the presence of someone that was _somewhat_ clothed. She crossed her legs and her arms in front of her chest in a sulk, though she doubted she only added a smirk on the corner of Keira’s lips.

"So the answer is no? What a shame. It took forever to prepare."

"Well, at least let me put on something!" Triss protested weakly, knowing those words useless the moment they left her lips.

As expected, Keira’s smirk grew, the kind that Triss would rush to stop her from making any decisions had she seen it in the courtroom. "Now you’re shy? I remember you almost growing on me last night, begging me to—"

Triss made an obscene gesture and a half-serious silencing spell at her direction, which was countered with a giggle. "That was different!"

"Enough about this nonsense. Are you eating or not?" The sorceress from Carrera cast a spell to levitate the tray and float it toward Triss, and, to redhead’s terror, climbed onto the bed, shocking her into putting down the knife and fork she just picked up.

"What are you doing?"

"Eat your scrambled eggs, Merigold."

"I swear to gods—"

"Oh, you will, soon enough," Keira interrupted without a care, fingers with neatly trimmed nails creeping upon milky thighs, skimming over the sensitive inside of the knees, pressing mercilessly onto bruised fingerprints on the no longer perfect skin. The pleasure mixed with pain almost had Triss chocked on the eggs.

"Keira!"

"Must I remind you to hurry up? I heard Fercart began to… well, was more motivated to look for your leverage after you humiliated him in front of Foltest last night. If I were you, I wouldn’t want to be late for work and gain a 'contempt for court' reputation." If not for the smug grin and thumb circling across a sensitive spot, Keira almost sounded sympathetic. When Triss put down her knife and fork again ready to lecture her, the fingertips bringing enormous pleasure shot off a wave of numbing magical tingling. The meal that "took forever" was really close to be intimate with the stony floor of the Maribor tower.

Even when she was fine with playing along, Triss felt the lusty fog in her mind somehow thinned a little. She reached out to pinch Keira’s chin and force eye contact, the latter too surprised to resist. "Keira," her voice was filled with calm and contempt, "I hope we can reach the agreement that it’s terrible enough that Fercart of Cidaris has taken up a large fraction out of my sex life. I do not need that self-righteous prude to be inside of my bedroom as well. Don’t bring work into life." She flashed her trademark sweet smile with no sincerity.

Keira swatted her hand away, the shock in her zircon eyes quickly morphing into contempt as well. "Triss," the way she chewed on every note of her name was strange and menacing, "you should have thought about that before you get in bed with one of your colleague."

"Do you have to bring it up?"

"Do you have to avoid this topic? Am I that much a disgrace to you? Your dirty little secret? You were the one who made the first offer."

Well, it wasn’t necessarily correct, but Triss did not have much to refute. Their first encounter was mixed with heavy amount of booze and uninhibited indulgence and terrible decisions and scars like last night, like almost every night. With a background like this, it was only fair to say it took Triss more than five seconds to _"fuck it"_ instead of taking the full responsibility for their arrangement.

These points were all very reasonable, but it was really hard to even speak rather than moan when Keira’s skilled fingers were sketching random patterns on her thighs.

"You’re cute, Merigold, with a pretty face and a pretty smile, turning into an ecstatic prostitute who earned fifty crowns a day whenever someone throws you a bone. However, unless the last part was your intricate disguise, I’d suggest you find an occupation that requires less sophistication than a politician." The blonde’s voice swirled downward until pleasant vibration travelled from the apex of Triss’ thighs all the way to her brain. She hissed in protest of the not-so-gentle biting, burying her deft fingers in bright hair.

"Are you… are you comparing me to a whore?" Triss hated that her voice already began to tremble. Maybe this was one of the many reasons they still carried on their affair. Triss had had her fair share of partners, but Keira still found ways to make her feel like a teenage girl who just had her first bite of the forbidden fruit. Her confidence and aggression made her skills undoubted, and this call was correctly made, at least in the bedroom.

"Oh, my apologies, my esteemed lady…" It was clear that Keira was wearing a smirk even without seeing her face. Triss gasped as she threw her head back, fingers tightening in the locks of hair. Keira was terribly good with her mouth one way or another. While her mouth was currently occupied, familiar taunt carried on with telepathy.

_I thought you might enjoy it._

Things were simpler back in the days. _They_ were simpler. They were the _simplest_ thing in Triss’ life, whatever part that may be. They would bicker in court, fighting over the final say for a magistrate appointment like two snarling panthers, then blow off their pant up steam (their version of kiss and make up) behind closed doors. No one knew each other like they did, inside out. They learned to follow their pattern, when to back up without looking bad.

They were such a perfect match in so many ways. They were both so, so young, stumbling in a cruel political world with minds older and greater than they could possibly fashion. Still, their formed alliance got them through it all. When Aedrin tried to slip a few hundreds of acres into their map, when some rough Skelligers harassing their boarder with random pillage of imports from Bremervoord, they stood together for their kingdom and defend her from all those pretenders for her vast wealth.

Triss had her doubt, from outside criticism and within. But in time she grew and blossomed beautifully. Temeria was prosperous and thriving with energy of a newborn cub under her advisor’s hand. She would be for hundreds of years to come.

Alas, nothing lasted forever. Not love, not power, not kingdoms. The black hurricane from the south came, and everything was a blurred after that. Triss lost her best friend and who she thought was the love of her life while off chasing around the woman she believed would take good care of her. The blonde woman was her schoolmate, her colleague, her co-conspirator, her accomplice, of benefits. That was all she ever was.

Because the one thing they weren’t was friends.

On occasion, Triss thought about her, how her eyes shone brighter than any stars on the horizon after a few chalices of wine, how her smile turned predatory the moment before she advanced, or how she purred in her sleep and curled up tighter beside her while Triss lay sleepless regretting everything for the thousandth time.

But only on occasion. Triss was an attractive women. Men and women fell under her spell all the time and her bed was seldom empty. The same could be said for Keira, really. They are sorceresses. Huntresses of broken hearts, theirs or some unlucky fellow’s. They were not meant to stay in one place for long, and they were fine by it. People moved on, grew out of things, Triss told herself. They still got together for quick fucks sometimes, but fewer and longer in between. _It’s fine,_ Triss told herself, _if people can’t remain in your life, they are not supposed to, anyway._

The last Triss saw Keira, alive, was at Loc Muinne. After that, their final meeting was in front of Novigrad’s biggest pyre, which people built in celebration of one huge danger removed from the face of earth, a goddamn member of the Lodge.

As Triss lowered the lifeless body from the pyre, she remembered more things about her. She remembered how Keira was so determined to cheer her up and convinced her she was not a completely waste of space after that major fuckup she had with the chamber of commerce she ended up adopting a puppy that died in a few years from parasite for her, how one time they were so drunk Triss started to rumble about how they should leave everything behind and elope to Poviss for "happily ever after" and things got so awkward between them they did not speak for a week, or how she tried so desperately to reach her over and over again after they both lost their motherland just to make sure she was safe, and failed each and every time.

She should have stayed. She should have searched deeper in what remained of her beloved country, in places no one would ever dare to imagine she being there. She could have talked Keira out of this terrible, terrible idea because she always listened to her, and they could have still gone to Kovir, to Poviss, hell, to Ofir and Zerrikan if they needed to, to whatever place they could and would be safe, like the empty promise she made so many years ago.

But there was no magic in the world enough to reverse all the what-ifs and could-haves.

For now, the one thing she could do is to steal the corpse of her away and gave her a proper burial in secret, protected by so many magic that no one could ever found out who lay beneath the nameless tombstone.

It only had one line.

"Come back to me, my love."

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments always appreciated!
> 
> Come chat with me at https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sorceressesruntheworld if you'd like! (Please do it)


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